


Girl From the North Country

by BennyNotBunny



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-10-01
Packaged: 2017-12-26 03:56:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BennyNotBunny/pseuds/BennyNotBunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a dark cold night, a raid on a small cabin deep in the forests of Skyrim sends a young child fleeing for her life with only her mother's last words to guide her, "Run, run and don't look back. Run to the Companions." In the darkness of the night and hollowness of her grief she loses her way, only to stumble onto another of her kind, who will lead her down a very, very different path.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Child of Hircine

Chapter 1: Child of Hircine

_“Among those of us to whom Lord[Hircine](http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Skyrim:Hircine) bestowed his most precious gift of [Lycanthropy](http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Skyrim:Werewolf), there are legends that he also set into the world specific artifacts of his power. They date to a period when men could neither write, nor speak, nor barely think, but the powers of blood of the beast were yet flowing strong among the selected. The first: a carved skull, of the wolf itself. Used by those ancient shamans in the blood ceremonies that created our lineage, it is said to grant a great presence to those who prostrate themselves before it, such that those who witness their forms cower in a terror unknown except to those who have glimpsed the face of Hircine himself. The second: a thigh bone, carved as the skull, but from some animal unknown. Used as some form of medicinal wand in the more ancient brotherhood, it was said to grant a kind of heightened awareness, both in sight and smell, such that the prey could never flee too far from our senses. The third: a simple drum, its mundane appearance meaning it is most likely lost to the mists of long ago time. As our fathers would beat time to summon their brethren from the fields, so too would our forebears in the blood call their allies to them with its pounding. Through these totems, we channel and focus our energies of the beast. While werewolves give up the powers of magic known to men, we can tap into a more direct natural energy at times, and through these totems, discover the abilities that first tamed the world before wrought civilization sullied it.”_

Matska shut the book with a soft thump and stared down at her golden-haired babe. The child looked up at her wide-eyed and silent from beneath the pile of furs atop her straw stuffed pallet.

“What are you thinking, young one?” Matska asked.

The child huffed and blew overgrown blonde bangs away from her expressive blue eyes. “Does that mean I can never do magic?”

Matska grinned and shook her head. “You will be able to if you put your mind to it, I’m sure – just not in your wolf form. But such things are far away. Magic requires a teacher, and you must learn to embrace Lord Hircene’s gift before you learn anything else.”

“Mother?”

“Yes little one?”

“Does Lord Hircine love us?”

Matska smiled. “In His way, yes. He shared with us his greatest love, which is the hunt, and he grants us eternity with him in his hunting grounds when this life is at its end. Now go to sleep little one.”

After a hug and kiss goodnight. Matska settled the furs around her only child and busied herself with the night’s preparations before stoking the fire and heading off to bed herself. She smiled up at the straw thatched roof thinking of her daughter’s questions. After a while she murmured her nightly prayer, “Lord Hircine, protect this child that loves you so, as her father now hunts at your side. Keep our young pup safe, may she always be the hunter and never the prey, so that she may grow strong and bring glory to your name,” and drifted off to sleep.

Deep into the darkest hours of the night Matska’s eyes flew open in the darkness -the wolf screaming a warning in her head. She lie still, barely daring to breathe and listened. There – a sound that didn’t belong – leather and steel pressing into the soft ground too near the house to be a coincidence, too quietly to be innocent passersby. She sniffed the air and exhaled silently, a puff of steam in the cold night. _SILVER._

Silently she rose from her bed and shook the sleeping child. The girl’s eyes flew open, a flash of gold glowing in the darkness. Matska removed the child’s white night clothes and replaced them with one of her own dark colored tunics, which fell well below the child’s knees.  She filled a small pack with an extra set of clothes, boots, and the bread left over from their dinner all while calculating silently in her head. _8, 12, 15_ . . . _Too many! There are too many! We’ll never make it together._ Still silent, she moved the rug away from the corner of the room and opened the door to the cellar. She climbed down and lifted her daughter down after her. Carefully she unlatched the door hidden in the bushes behind the house. On the dirty cellar floor, she knelt in front of her daughter and pulled her close before kissing her on the forehead. They stared at each other in silence for the few moments that could be spared.

 Matska pulled the leather strap from around her neck and placed it over her daughters head. On it a wooden carving of a wolf danced alone. Inside Matska the wolf howled in alarm. “Little one, when you hear me call, run. Run and don’t look back. Do you understand?”

The child nodded frantically in the darkness.

Matska took a deep breath, “As soon as you reach the cover of the trees, change, as fast as you can.”

“Where will I find you? Where should I go?”

Matska shook her head, choked back tears, and determined that her last words to her child would not be lie. “There are too many, my sweet love. If you can, seek out the Companions in Whiterun hold. Ask for a man named Kodlak Whitemane.”

Matska’s eyes went gold as she heard shouting and the sound of a torch landing on the roof. She kissed the girl’s face and headed swiftly up the stairs, carefully replacing the rug over the latched door. The roof was burning, glass shattered as more torches flew through the windows. “Lord Hircine, I give my child over into your care. Make her feet swift and sure. I will slaughter these men in your name and they will know true fear. But protect my little one, may she live to hunt another night.”

As the room burned around her, Matska unlocked the door and shifted. The wolf broke through in a protective rage. She howled in fury, lusting for the blood of those who dared threaten her young one and leapt into the night.

Several weeks later, lost and half mad from grief and hunger, the young pup was drawn to the sound of crunching bones and ripping flesh, and the overwhelming scent of warm blood. She crept toward the noise along the edges of a pine thicket. A large dark brown werewolf came into view, gorging on the fresh carcass of a large elk. Salivating, the pup crept forward, belly close to the ground, one careful step at a time. Closer and closer she crept until a deep rumbling growl of warning froze her in her tracks. She swallowed and flickered her eyes up. The big male wasn’t looking at her. A few more creeping steps forward and she could almost touch a small piece of the kill that lay discarded a few feet from the feeding wolf. He growled again. She stopped, whined softly, and then crept forward and opened her mouth. The big wolf snarled and pinned her with a menacing stare, bristling. Unable to fight the hunger overwhelming all other senses, the pup snatched a piece of the kill and ran. She barely made it out of the clearing when a shadow crossed over her and the huge male stood in front of her teeth barred commanding her to drop it. The pup snarled. A tiny ferocious growl that was half plea half threat. She was knocked halfway across the clearing for her trouble, her prize snatched away. Her first instinct was to howl plaintively for her mother, but then she remembered – her mother was dead.

The adult wolf watched as the pup rolled end over end and came up with her nose in the air, ready to call for her mother. He half wondered what kind of female would come crashing through the underbrush to take him on and sat down to wait. But the call never came. The pup opened her mouth and took a breath, eyes closed, nose in the air . . . and then nothing. He watched closely as she opened her eyes. He saw something broken in her expression, as though she realized no one would answer, and then he saw something else. She rounded on him in a tiny ball of reckless snarling desperation and flung herself at his throat. He snorted and stood on all fours effectively bouncing her off his chest. She shook herself and stalked toward the tiny piece of meat he’d taken from her, bristling and growling. So he ate it.

A momentary look of disbelief crossed her baby face and then she howled in outrage. He snorted again in amusement and then yelped in surprise as a snapping ball of fur hit his face and needle sharp puppy teeth clamped down on one of his ears. He shook his head to dislodge her and planted a huge paw on her stomach when she fell to the ground. For the next ten minutes she squirmed and snapped and furiously snarled, while he watched with growing interest. When she’d tired herself out, he removed his paw. She curled into a ball and lie still, defeated, while he returned to his kill. After a few minutes, he chuffed softly. She opened her eyes, but didn’t move. He chuffed again, and then growled. She slunk forward and settled down beside him to eat.

Watching her, he realized it had probably been days since her last meal. Her desperate gorging caused him to furrow his brow in what he told himself was definitely not concern. When she couldn’t eat any more she sat, tummy bulging, and lifted her face toward his. He looked at her skeptically. She let out a plaintive whine and stood on her hind legs. With a long-suffering sigh, he leaned down and cleaned her face, and then stalked off into the trees with her trailing behind him. It only took him a few moments to locate her small stash of belongings in the forest. He snatched the small pack up in his jaws and led her through the trees and up into the rocks. She followed him to his den and after he made himself comfortable, snuggled close to his side and fell asleep.

He told himself that when the morning arrived, he would deposit her somewhere safe and get on with his life. He closed his eyes and was annoyed to find that the safest place he could think of, was with him . . . 


	2. A New Family

Chapter 2: A New Family

The shouting from Arnbjorn and Astrid’s bedroom had been going on for hours and was only getting louder. It had grown so loud in fact, that several members of the Family had gathered in the entry room in case intervention should be required.

“What in the Void could you have possibly been thinking, bringing her here?! How dare you do this without even consulting me?!” Astrid demanded hotly.

“I was _thinking_ ,” Arnbjorn spat back, “that she would become part of our family, since _you_ obviously have no intention of allowing it to grow naturally!”

“My decision to have or not have a child has nothing to do with this, you overgrown mutt!”

“It has everything to do with it! It should have been _our_ decision Astrid, not just yours! The moment I turned my back, you had that little she-devil woman-child brew you a potion to end our child’s life! You damn sure didn’t consult me!”

“It wasn’t a good time for me to be pregnant!”

“It never is! But there’s plenty of time for you to whore around with half the initiates you bring in here!”

“So. This is what – some sort of revenge? Your version of punishment?”

“No.”

“And if I refuse this intrusion? I am still the leader of this sanctuary! She’s a threat to us all now! I should kill her and be done with it!”

“Astrid, so help me Sithis, I’ve never raised a hand to you but I swear to the gods, if you touch that child I will fucking end you!”

Three sets of eyes turned to the child in question, who had backed into the shadow of a nearby bookcase and flattened herself against the wall.

“I don’t see why this is such a problem,” Babette whispered, “Surely this could be seen as an opportunity for us, and for Astrid. Arnbjorn gets a child, Astrid doesn’t have to get pregnant – her vanity alone should allow her to see that.”

“Things are rarely as simple as they seem, “Nazir intoned. “And our illustrious leader likes to be in control of every situation.”

Festus uncrossed his arms and waved Nazir off. “Bah! This arguing is getting us nowhere! This decision affects the whole family – all of us! And I, for one, plan on making my opinion known! It’s about time we got some new blood in here, and this one’s young enough that we could train her up right!” The old mage opened the door to the bedroom and shoved an unwilling Nazir and a gleeful vampire into the room before following them in and slamming the door behind him.

The child cast a worried glance at the door, as the shouting began again, this time with extra voices. After a moment, a dark-skinned elf woman walked by. She stared at the child for a few minutes and then jerked her head towards the hallway and entered the bedroom. With a sigh the child crept away from the wall and slunk down the stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs, she took the new room in, wide-eyed, and began to creep around in exploration. After a while she noticed a figure sitting stock still in the shadows near a small water-fall fed pool, legs crossed, arms resting on his knees, tail curled around his feet. Although she’d never seen an Argonian before, her mother had told her enough stories about all the races for her to recognize one. His shiny green scales attracted her attention immediately, and her small fingers itched to reach out and touch them. She made her way across the room quietly, hugging the shadows.

The male sat perfectly still, but at some point, the pup recognized he knew she was there. The shouting from the front of the sanctuary became audible again and the child scrambled over to where the lizard sat with his eyes closed, and sat down beside him. She fidgeted worriedly, as a crash that sounded suspiciously like furniture splintering against the wall sounded from the front rooms.

The Argonian didn’t move, and she wondered for a moment if he was dead. A cautious sniff near his neck and the accompanying minuscule twitch of his jaw assured her he was very much alive. She drew back carefully, but immediately missed the quiet, calm strength he exuded. Silently she drew closer to him, and inched her way into his lap.

* * *

Veezara listened to the small being poke about the room quietly. He could sense almost the exact moment when she noticed him, as her quiet steps became nearly silent. He could also tell when she realized her silence was pointless, and then felt her intense gaze as she sat beside him. He wondered what she was thinking, sitting there in silence beside him, and then barely held in a chuckle when her breath tickled his neck. The small one was amusing, and her stealthiness showed promise.

He travelled back in his memory to his own training as a shadowscale, and became lost in his thoughts. He was thinking it was a shame Astrid was determined to get rid of the creature when he noticed a weight on his legs and against his chest. He opened one eye and glanced down to find the child’s small form curled in his lap, golden head resting against his chest. He was further surprised to see his own arms wrapped loosely around her warm and  - judging from the steady rise and fall of her upper body -  sleeping form, as if they belonged there. _When had that happened and why did he like it?_ His other eye shot open and his head snapped up as several sets of footsteps sounded on the stairs.

Astrid’s voice floated to him clearly. “I’ve heard what you all have to say on the matter, but as Festus pointed out, _repeatedly_ , this decision affects all of you. As we are split evenly in our opinions, I want to hear what Veezara thinks about this foolish nonsense.”

“You know the lizard agrees with everything you say,” Arnbjorn growled.

“Nevertheless,” Astrid continued smugly, “his opinion will make the decision for us and then we will put this disagreement behind us.”

Astrid leveled an acid smile at her husband and began speaking before she bothered to look around the room. “Veezara,” she began “we are at an impasse and require your valuable opin . . .” her voice trailed off and her mouth fell open slightly as she caught sight of the Argonian.

Festus began to chuckle darkly, and Nazir raised a hand to cover his mouth, which was inexplicably twitching up into a grin at the sight of the lizard’s obvious discomfort.

“What Astrid is asking,” said Gabriella, easily picking up the thread of conversation, “is what you think about keeping the child here with us and raising her as one of our own. So tell us, most dangerous and deadly of brothers, what _do_ you think?”

Veezara’s eyes widened slightly in the closest thing to panic he’d felt in years. “I . . . .”

Against his chest, the child heard his heart begin to race and wrapped her arms around his waist in a gesture of comfort. His arms tightened around her reflexively. He frowned slightly and took a deep breath. “I think we should consider keeping her for a while. If she shows promise, she can stay. If not, other arrangements can be made.”


	3. First Lessons

“You will make your own breakfast at 6am each day. By 7am you are to be dressed and ready for lessons with Festus. He will teach you our history, as well as making sure you’re literate and have an understanding of current and past events. At 9am you will report to Veezara for lessons on stealth and one-handed weapons. At 11am, see Babette for alchemy training. You will eat lunch at 12pm and then rest quietly on your bed until 1pm. At 1pm, report to Gabriella for an hour of archery lessons followed by etiquette lessons. At 3pm, you will find Arnbjorn and learn weapon care and maintenance, and eventually how to smith weapons. By 6pm you should be clean, dressed and reporting to Nazir for lessons in speech. Nazir has also agreed to teach you how to cook, and you will be responsible for helping prepare dinner each night. At 8pm, you will report to me everything you’ve learned for the day, and I will teach you about the financial side of our Family business.” Astrid paused in her instruction and crossed her arms. She regarded the solemn child for a moment before adding, “If and only if, I am satisfied with your progress, you may begin mage training with Festus in a few weeks. In addition to these daily lessons, you will also spend at least one night every fortnight out with Babette gathering reagents. You will also spend several nights hunting and doing other . . . wolf things, with Arnbjorn. Any questions?”

The child cleared her throat and spoke carefully. “What should I do, if someone is not here to teach me?”

Astrid’s eyes narrowed slightly. _Smart child._ She shrugged. “You may practice on your own or find another family member and help them with whatever they need. Any other questions?”

The child rung her hands, nervously, “Um . . .”

“Stop fidgeting and speak up,” Astrid snapped.

Sighing lightly, the child stood up straight. “Do you want to know my name?”

Astrid regarded her for a few moments, before stating flatly, “No” and walking away.

“Well, I want to know you name,” came a scraggily voice behind her. “Can’t just be calling you Child the whole damn time.”

The girl grinned and turned to regard the elderly mage, Festus Krex. “Yes, sir-“

Fetus harrumphed. “None of that now, you can call me Master Krex for now, and maybe Uncle Festus later if you don’t annoy me into setting you on fire before the week’s out.”

The girl grinned again. “Yes, Master Krex.”

“Well?” Festus prompted. “Your name girl, what’s your name.”

“Oh, it’s Tempest.”

Festus slapped his hand down on the table and the child jumped. “Lesson the first, Child, speak in complete sentences.”

She swallowed nervously and tried again. “My name is Tempest. I am pleased to meet you Master Krex.”

“That’s better,” the old mage muttered. “Now come along, Tempest. Let’s see how much of an idiot you are. How old are you anyway?”

“I am five summers old. How old are you, Master Krex?”

“Ha! Haha! Child’s got wit,” Festus said to no one in particular. “I’m old enough not to have to answer that question. Why by the time I was your age I was a child prodigy . . .”

Their voices faded away as they made their way back to the laboratory.

Festus was pleased to find that the child could already write all of her letters, her name, and many other simple words. She could also read fairly well, which was notable for a commoner in general and exceptional for one her age. She could name all of the holds of Skyrim, and she knew the names of the Jarls. Her knowledge of history and of the adera and daedra was sorely lacking, with one notable exception – Hircine. When asked about Hircine, her face lit with a brilliant smile and she talked for a good ten minutes straight. Festus listened carefully, stroking his chin and scheming about the best way to introduce her to Sithis.

When the hour glass ran out for the second time Festus shoo’d her on her way. She found Veezara waiting for her in the main chamber, a small assortment of items spread out before him.

“Greetings, Sister,” he said in his quiet voice.

“Greetings, Brother.”

Veezara pointed out an amethyst, a gold coin, an iron dagger, an apothecary satchel, an apple and some dried elves ear and proceeded to explain how many points each item was worth. He placed each item around the sanctuary and handed Tempest five small cards, each one folded in half with a red wax seal. “Now,” Veezara explained, “Our first lesson is a game. I’m going to turn the hour glass over and you are to gather the items I’ve shown you without getting caught. If a family member catches you, they will call you and you have to give them one of your cards to open. Four of the cards are blank. Each time you lose one of those cards, you have to give up one of the items you’ve collected. One of the cards has a black hand. If they open that one, you have to give up everything and start over. If you lose all of your cards, you lose the game. The most valuable items have been placed in the most difficult locations. I will give you a few minutes to think about your strategy. When you’re ready, I’ll turn the hour glass over and we will begin.”

Thirty minutes later, Veezara noted to himself that the child was almost silent, but very impatient. She was able to return the apple, the satchel and the dried elves ear to him without losing a card, but the dagger was giving her problems. He’d placed it by Arnbjorn’s forge and the big wolf could easily smell the pup coming. She’d already lost two cards to him, but her strategy of bringing Veezara the items one by one was paying off because she had nothing that could be taken from her when she got caught. Veezara watched her flop down in the shadows with her little mouth pushed out in a pout. He waited calmly for a few minutes, giving her time to think it through. A moment later a wicked smile crossed her face and she disappeared down the hall toward the family quarters.

Veezara was waiting patiently for his protégé to return when Astrid stormed into the room, with a piece of parchment crumpled in her hand and slapped Arnbjorn across the face. “You bastard!”

“What the Void was that for?” he growled, rubbing his cheek.

Veezara caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and chuckled as a small hand reached out of the shadows to remove the dagger from Arnbjorns forge.

“For this!” Astrid spat waving the parchment in the air before straightening it out to read, “My Dearest Wife, I love the moon and I love the hunt. I love you more than that. And it’s because I love you that I say, lay off the sweet rolls your ass is getting fat!”

From the coal brazier nearby Nazir choked back a laugh, but couldn’t contain his loud sniggers or his shaking shoulders. Veezara, very glad of his unexpressive Argonian features for the moment, studied his daggers astutely, and refused to look up.

“Astrid, I didn’t write that.” Arnbjnorn said. He pulled her close and gave the ass in question a squeeze. “Besides, you know I love your ass. I’ve been right here guarding this dagger from the Morsel anyway,” he said, gesturing toward the forge.

“What dagger?”

“That one,” Arnbjorn said impatiently. He looked over toward the forge and his eyebrows shot up. “Dammit!”

A look of understanding dawned on Astrid’s face. “Oh shit! The amethyst!” She whirled and raced up the stairs toward her work table.

“Very good,” Veezara said to the child sneaking up behind him. “But that will only work once little sister.”

Tempest grinned and dropped the amethyst in his hand before handing him the dagger. “Am I going to be in trouble?” she asked.

Veezara shrugged. “The life of a dark brother or sister is full of risk, but also great rewards.” He produced a honey nut treat from somewhere on his person and handed it to Tempest. “I doubt you’ll be in trouble, but I wouldn’t mention today’s game for quite a while. Now go, it’s time for your next lesson.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur of alchemy, archery, and learning how to clean weapons. At 6pm Nazir entered the kitchen to find Tempest cleaned up and waiting for him. She was dressed as a chef complete with apron, wooden ladle and lopsided oversized hat. _Babette’s doing no doubt._

“So we’re to work on your speech and cooking skills, are we?” asked the Redguard.

“Yes, Nazier. What will we be making for dinner?”

“Well, look around the kitchen. For what, do you see ingredients?”

Tempest pattered around for a moment or two before announcing, “Venison stew, salad and grilled bread with garlic and butter.”

Nazier stroked his beard thoughtfully. “I like you,” he said simply. “Let’s get to work. Have you ever heard of the yellow book of riddles . . .?”

Dinner was a social affair with lots of good natured ribbing and talk of the day’s business. It was rare for all the Family to be home at one time and very enjoyable. In truth, several of the newest initiates were out scouting for contracts and gathering information, but they had barely earned their place at the table and were hardly missed. Tempest sat beside Gabriella, who quietly corrected her manners when necessary and gently nudged her to sit up straight and pay attention occasionally.

When dinner ended, Tempest dreaded heading up to talk to Astrid, but plucked up her courage and headed towards the planning room. To her surprise, Astrid greeted her with a warm smile.

 “That was very clever my dearest Tempest – your little distraction today.”

“Thank you.”

“How did you think of that? You’re just a little girl after all.”

Tempest took a breath, trying to think of how to answer without making Astrid angry. Suddenly her eyes flashed gold, and she found her voice, although it had a rasp to it that had not been there a few moments before. “I’m not just a little girl. That is all people see, but I am also the wolf, and the wolf is treachery incarnate.”

A sudden chill ran up Astrid’s spine – a chill that she liked very much. She smiled, calculating and welcoming and greedily happy. “I think you may fit in here after all. Come here.”

Tempest walked slowly over to the assassin and was shocked to find herself embraced. “Welcome to our Family, Tempest. You may call me Astrid or Sister, or when we’re in public – mother.”

The thought of calling Astrid mother, soured almost immediately on the pup’s stomach, but Tempest nodded her head and embraced the woman anyway.

“Now,” Astrid continued, “Come sit with me, and I’ll explain how we obtain a contract.”

 

Later, in bed with her husband, Astrid stroked Arnbjorn’s chest and sighed. “Husband, why did you not take the child to the Companions?”

Arnbjorn chuckled. “You like her don’t you.”

“That’s beside the point. Why did you bring her here?”

Arnbjorn thought for a moment in the darkness. “I’ve seen how they handle their gift. Not one of them understands it. Not one of them is in control of it. They think they are, but they all succumb to the call of the blood, lose their tempers, get twitchy if they can’t hunt, strut about marking their territory as though they’re invincible. They try to exist separately from the beast.” He turned on his side and regarded Astrid. “The Morsel is different, she was born with it in her blood. The child is a perfect balance of wolf and woman, but the wolf is strong in her, very, very strong and it has to be trained to follow its instincts. She’s dangerous, and deadly and dominant and she doesn’t even know it yet. The Companions would try to train it out of her and they’d break her in the process.”

Astrid placed a hand on his cheek. “Why didn’t you just tell me that in the first place?”

“Because, I don’t want you to think of her as a charity case. She’s not – she’s a natural born killer.”

Astrid grinned. “Do you know what she told me tonight?”

“What?”

“I asked her how she thought of her little setup this afternoon. Her eyes glowed gold and she said that she was the wolf, and the wolf was treachery incarnate. It gave me chills.” Astrid shuddered just thinking about it.

Arnbjorn propped up on his elbow and looked down at her. “It should have. You were talking directly to the wolf. Did I tell you said she was born on the 5th of Mid Year?”

Astrid’s brow wrinkled. “Hircine’s summoning day?”

“Yes. I believe she’s a daughter of the Hunt.”

“Meaning?”

Arnbjorn shrugged. “That she’s favored by Hircine? That He takes a special interest in her life? That her parents watch over her from the Hunting Grounds? I’m not religious, you know that – but there’s something about her. I can feel it – or rather, the wolf can.”

Astrid smiled into the darkness. “Then . . . I’m glad you brought her here. She may bring the Family together like never before.”

Somewhere deep in Astrid’s subconscious a whisper sounded. _Or, she may tear it apart._


	4. The Road to Riften

Several months later, the girl's lessons were progressing well. Astrid had been counseled by Festus that the child was eager to learn magic, but that he would rather wait until Tempest was a little older to begin her studies. He also wanted her to begin by learning healing magic since she was likely to burn, freeze, or electrocute herself at the beginning of her destruction training. Astrid was less concerned about the child's safety, but agreed because she saw the training as something that could be used as a carrot to keep the child working hard in areas which she was less interested in.  _Although honestly_ , Astrid had to admit to herself,  _the child soaks up knowledge like a sponge, and seems to enjoy learning for its own sake._ That however, was likely about to change.

Over the months, under the care of her new Family, and what Astrid felt was Arnbjorn's overly affectionate coddling, the girl's personality had begun to surface bit by bit. Mischievous and quick-witted, the youngest member of the Family often had her siblings smothering a grin or laughing out loud. She never spoke of what happened to her parents and the Family never questioned her about it – after all, they'd all once feared the darkness in which they now tread so comfortably. The path to embracing the dark and empty coldness of the Void, wound always through a valley in which the hope of ever living again in the warmth and light of normalcy was destroyed. All of them, except perhaps Veezara, had tread it, some more than once, and though they may have become numb to it, they all could remember a time when the loss of that hope and the pain that accompanied it was almost too much to bear. So, they held their tongues, and theorized amongst themselves that the child had shut the memories away where they couldn't hurt her.

At first, as the moons waned in the night sky, she'd had horrible night terrors. She would awaken sobbing and frightened with a faraway look in her always golden eyes – sometimes under a bed, sometimes huddled in a dark corner, half the time as a wolf pup; and only Arnbjorn's presence could soothe her. He would often change and curl around her small body in front of the fire of his forge, lulling her back to sleep with his steady breathing and comforting heartbeat. The times she came to as a pup were always the worst. The first time her heartbreaking howls of sorrow and fear had shattered the quiet of the sanctuary, Babette had become so distraught that Gabriella had ended up taking her out into the forest to collect plants for the rest of the night. Miles away the two of them sat on a rock overlooking the river and spoke to each other about other lives, lived in a time before the Brotherhood. As dawn was breaking the two of them had returned, smiling, hand-in-hand.

After a time, the child began to sleep through the night without disturbance. When the moons began to wax again the wolves spent their nights out hunting, and running, and although Arnbjorn would never admit to it – playing in the darkness. Despite his disagreements with the Companions, he found that he'd missed the company and comfort of having a moon-born pack, even a pack of "one and a morsel", as he liked to say. He waded through rivers, while she swam frantically beside him, front feet paddling, and nose in the air. He flushed rabbits from the underbrush for her to catch, and watched her leap into the air in fruitless attempts to catch torch bugs. They climbed into the mountains and sped through snow banks causing explosions of fresh powder in the cold night air. And as he watched her, he began to wonder if he'd done the right thing, bringing her further into the darkness, instead of forcing her into the light. But a bond had formed, between the humans and their companion spirits, and to rip the four of them away from each other now would cause damage that he wasn't sure she could withstand.

Unfortunately, that's exactly what Astrid had planned, as she and Tempest traveled the road towards Riften, on the back of her black stallion. When first confronted with each other, the child and Shadowmere had almost identical expressions of intrigue and evaluation on their faces. Tempest had stepped close and extended her hands. Shadowmere lowered his head until their foreheads touched, and they stared at each other. He couldn't put his hoof on it, but something about the small person was . . . not quite right. Finally, Tempest smirked and planted a loud kiss on his nose. The horse had drawn back in shocked outrage and looked at Astrid with an expression that clearly demanded to know what she was going to do about the indignity he'd just suffered. Unamused, Astrid lifted the girl into the saddle and swung up behind her, leaving Shadowmere to contemplate the ill-mannered mystery as he carried it and his mistress swiftly across the terrain.

* * *

They stopped for the night in a town called Helgen, due to the cold rain which had begun to drizzle down, with Astrid dismissing Shadowmere into the wild before they came to the gates. The inn, called the Helgen Homestead, was warm and dry, if mostly empty, and Tempest found herself becoming drowsy as she ate her stew near the fire. A man named Vilod kept bringing his specially brewed mead to Astrid, but stopped when she began laughing and leaning up against another man named Torolf. The child observed this unhappily, and tried to focus on her stew, but Astrid's increasingly loud laughter kept drawing her attention. The inn-keep looked on in disapproval as Astrid tossed the child a pelt cover from the bed and then disappeared behind the closed door to the room she'd rented with Torolf. Tempest sighed and walked over to the barkeep, politely asking permission to sleep near the fire. He gave her a kind smile and a slice of apple pie, along with his permission.

Several hours later, the drizzle of rain had turned into a storm, and Tempest jumped when the door to the inn banged open. She cracked her eyes open to find a heavily pregnant woman, soaked to the bone and holding her belly standing in the doorway. The innkeep, roused from his own room, rushed to her side and helped her to a chair.

"Matlara, what are you doing here? You shouldn't be out in your condition!"

"Where is he?" the woman said wearily.

"Who?"

With a heavy sigh, she shook her head. "My husband. Where is Torolf?"

The inn-keeper hesitated, the pained expression on his face giving away the answer to her question.

"Who is it this time?" the woman, Matlara, asked.

The inn-keeper shook his head. "I don't know," he said quietly, "a stranger, tall, blond, Nord . . ."

Matlara looked around the room. Her eyes landed on Tempest, and her expression softened. "And who is that little one?"

The inn-keeper looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. "She . . . uh . . .belongs to a guest."

Matlara looked at him in disgust, "You mean . . . with her child force to sleep on the floor in the next room?"

The inn-keeper shrugged helplessly and looked around for an excuse to leave the room.

After a few moments, Matlara gathered herself up with much effort and headed toward the door. "I was a fool to break things off with Ralof. You tell Torolf, that this is the last time. I had hoped that a child of our own would end his . . . behavior, but it seems I was wrong."

"Perhaps once the child arrives . . ." the inn-keeper started.

"We will see," Matlara said quietly. She glanced back at Tempest. "But, apparently, having a child doesn't always bring out the best in people."


	5. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Three can keep a secret, if two of them are dead." - Benjamin Franklin

 

 

Tempest woke well before dawn on the floor of the inn. The fire was nothing but glowing embers in the hearth and a draft of chill air blew toward her from under the door. With a sigh, she heaved herself from the floor and brushed her hands over her clothes to smooth them out. After a few moments, she rolled her shoulders uncomfortably and picked up her small pack, which she’d used as a makeshift pillow, from the floor. It would be hours before Astrid awoke and probably longer before she decided to make an appearance. The thought of entertaining herself at the inn all day, and enduring more pitying looks from the patrons as the inn-keeper whispered about her “mother’s” horrid behavior, was not appealing. So, she slipped to the door and quietly let herself out.

 

The town of Helgen was quiet in the weak grey light of pre-dawn. A couple of sleepy guards slouched about, their torches sputtering in the early-morning mist. A dog whined in protest as it was shooed out of a house for the morning. A couple of horses shifted and snorted near the gates in the cool morning air. Tempest pulled her cloak tighter around her – more because she was supposed to, than because she needed to, snagged a flower-basket from the porch of the inn and slipped out of the same gate they’d entered the night before. She followed the sound of running water through the woods, occasionally startling a rabbit, until she came to a small stream, and then followed that until it became wider and several feet deep. The water was cold, but after spending the night on a dirty inn floor, the chill couldn’t stop her from pulling a sliver of soap from her pack, chucking her clothing, and giving herself a thorough scrubbing. Whatever cold resistance she was lacking from not being a full-blooded Nord, her wolf blood easily made up for.

 

After a while, she waded out of the chill water, dressed herself, and set to work untangling and braiding her wet hair. She had just finished winding her second braid around her crown and securing it with a pin, when a crash sounded from the nearby underbrush. Startled, Tempest pulled on her pack and backed towards the stream, eyes scanning the riverbank warily. Moments later two grime-covered men appeared from the underbrush. Tempest’s sensitive nose wrinkled at the stench of body odor and stale mead. She reached forward slowly to pick up her flower basket and then began to back carefully away. She cringed when a slightly slurred voice, hit her ears.

 

“Well, well, what’av we here?” one of the men said.

 

Tempest stood straighter and leveled her pale cerulean gaze in their direction. The one who’d spoken was tall and lanky, with a balding head and a matted brown beard. The wolf growled inside, a warning: _I don’t like the way he’s looking at us._

 

His companion, was shorter and stocky with a blonde ponytail. “Aw, it’s just a kid, Hrongner,” he drawled. “Leave’er be.”

 

The man, Hrongner, started toward her with a sickening gleam in his eye. Tempest scrambled back, keeping her eyes on him.

 

“Aw now, pretty thing. Where’d you think you’re goin off’ta?”

 

His companion tried again. “I said come off it, Hrongner, she’s just a kid, that one. She ain’t no use to you or me.”

 

“Let me worry ‘bout what I plan to use ‘er for,” Hrongner answered. “Jus’help me catch the lil’bitch and then we can be on our way.”

 

The blonde one shook his head, but began moving around to flank her.

 

Eyes wide, Tempest turned and fled into the forest with a scream. She raced forward, ducking under branches and scrambling over logs only to find herself cut off against a sheer cliff face. She turned to double back and ducked under Hrongner’s flailing grasp only to have his companion grab her around the waist and lift her from the ground. Without thinking she snatched the daggers hidden in her boots and twisted violently in his arms. She looked for the bump of his collar bone and jammed the daggers into his neck right to the inside of the tell-tale bumps. His pupils blew wide in shock and he staggered back. She pulled down on the weapons with all her weight when he let her go, and heard the sickening snap of bone as the daggers wrenched free. She hit the ground with a thump and spun to face her second pursuer.

 

Hrongner stared open-mouthed as his companion lay bleeding-out on the forest floor. His eyes darted to the wild-eyed girl child clutching a pair of iron daggers, and he pulled the war-hammer from his back with a snarl. Tempest backed away as fast as she could and then turned and fled as he rushed toward her with a yell. His first swing would have connected with her if the wolf’s sharp ears hadn’t caught the sound of metal cutting through air. The wolf dragged her down to the ground, scraping knees and knuckles on the rocky ground, and the hammer swung above her. Tempest scrambled to her feet and ran, grip tightening on her daggers. Her lungs felt like they were on fire. She chanced a look behind her only to find he was gaining on her.

 

Before she could whip her head around to search out a path of escape, she collided with something solid. The air rushed from her lungs and her head spun as she landed flat on her back, mouth gaping like a dying fish, trying to take in air. For a moment all she saw was sky, and then a big black nose, followed by two glowing red eyes, a long black mane and two black ears tilted forward in obvious disapproval, came into view.

 

With the tiny amount of air left in her lungs, Tempest managed to force a near-silent word from her lips. “Help!”

 

A moment later she pulled her arms over her face as the giant horse became a blur of motion, kicking up the dirt around her as he charged toward her foe. Almost before Tempest could catch her breath and get to her feet, it was over. Shadowmere came trotting back to her, eyes narrowed.

 

“Well,” Tempest argued, “I killed the other one.”

 

Shadowmere flicked his tail disinterestedly.

 

Tempest put her hands on her hips and stomped her foot. “You . . . you . . . I’m only six! I did my best!”

 

When the horse didn’t respond, she flopped down and let out a wail.

 

Shadowmere’s eyes widened and his ears laid back at the sound coming out of the little one. Appalled at her display, he walked off with a snort to investigate her claim of murder. A few moments later he came upon the body of a brigand who’d been stabbed neatly in the neck with a pair of daggers. He leaned down to get a closer look and then started in alarm when Tempest spoke from right beside him.

 

“See, I told you.”

 

_Sneaky, small one. Sneaky . . . murderous, small one. Hmm._

 

Head still down, Shadowmere glanced over at the girl and bumped her gently. She sighed and leaned into him for a moment before approaching the dead man with a grimace and searching his body. Apparently, the two dead men had been robbing for a while. By the time she finished looting both bodies, she’d added an enchanted elven dagger, some jewelry, plenty of herbs, a couple of pelts, a stash of food, some loose gems and close to 100 gold to her satchel. But the real prize came when she dug to the bottom of Hrongner’s pack and found four brand new spell books tucked in between a layer of women’s clothing. Grinning in glee, she hid them at the bottom of her pack. There was no way for her to carry the larger weapons and armor, so she left them there and headed back in the direction of Helgen, filling her borrowed flower basket with alchemy ingredients as she walked.

 

The sun had been up for several hours when she finally opened the door to the Helgen Homestead. The inn-keeper called a greeting to her and motioned her over to the table. He set a bowl of porridge and spiced apples in front of her and proceeded to poke through her basket of ingredients.

 

“Well now, someone’s been busy this morning,” he remarked jovially. “I’ll give you 20 gold for everything you’ve collected, minus 5 gold for your breakfast.”

 

Tempest had a moth full of porridge, so she just nodded vigorously.

 

The inn-keep laughed and plunked the gold down beside her bowl before returning to his duties.

 

A few minutes later, Tempest settled in a dark corner. Keeping a wary eye on the door to Astrid’s room, she snuck one of the spell books out and began to read about Healing. An hour later she held one of her scraped hands in front of her and concentrated. To her delight a faint glow emitted from one hand, and surrounded the other, and the scrapes disappeared. Excited, she repeated the process with the other hand and giggled. After healing both knees, and a couple of self-inflicted nicks with her dagger, she dug into her satchel and fished out another book. This one was called Healing Hands. She had just finished the last page when the door to Astrid’s room banged open. Tempest jumped and then scowled when she caught sight of Torolf, the same man from last night, with his hands down the front of Astrid’s dress squeezing places that Tempest knew he should not be touching. She let out a small growl and stomped across the room.

 

“Can we go?” she demanded.

 

The resounding slap from the back of Astrid’s hand caused Tempest’s head to snap to the side, and she staggered back a step.

 

A dark look crossed Torolf’s face and he set Astrid away from him, scowling. “What kind of woman touches a child that way?”

 

Astrid shrugged. “The kind you like,” she purred.

 

He stared at her for a moment, before shaking his head and speaking softly.  “No. No, this was a mistake. I have to get home.”

 

Astrid shrugged again and walked to the bar for breakfast. Behind her, Tempest touched a hand to her stinging face and let healing energy seep into her skin. After a few moments, she grinned and headed outside to wait. A few houses down Torolf was speaking earnestly with Matlara in the door of their home. Tempest watched as the woman’s expression changed from anger, to sadness, to something like hope. Torolf placed and arm around her back and a hand on her belly. Matlara’s head came down on his shoulder and they headed inside. Before he closed the door, Torolf looked once more toward the inn, and saw the child sitting alone on the steps. She was watching him, and she smiled.


	6. Theives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Astrid and Tempest arrive in Riften.

Tempest was wide-eyed and curious as she and Astrid entered the city of Riften late the next afternoon. She’d never been to a real city, and the hustle and bustle of trade up and down the canal and throughout the marketplace made Riften seem like a different world from the small town of Helgen. Her senses were working overtime trying to take in a hundred new scents and sounds, as Astrid dragged her along the well maintained promenade of the city’s upper level. The vendors in the market circle caught her attention, and she fought the urge to wander away from Astrid, who was talking quietly with a man she called Delvin. Tempest stood quietly behind Astrid and listened with half an ear to their conversation as she looked around.

“Yeah . . . Maven will probably like that idea, although I doubt a certain husband of yours will.”

“That’s not your concern, Delvin, so don’t be . . . concerned about it.”

“Right. That’s easy for you to say, you won’t be the one he comes looking for.”

“Have you talked to your new Guild Master about this?”

“Well now, Mercer’s hardly new, is he? He’s been leading the guild for a bit over 10 years now, Astrid.”

“And yet, he still hasn’t managed to track down your little traitor? If he’d turned the matter over to us, it would have been dealt with by now.”

“I haven’t talked to Mercer. Have you talked to Maven? He’s generally a lot more . . . agreeable when Lady Blackbriar is involved.”

“Not yet, I’ve only just arrived. In fact, perhaps there’s something you can help me with, while I go speak to her.”

“Always, one for asking favors, aren’t you, My Lovely?”

Tempest’s attention, along with her arm, was jerked abruptly back to the present situation as Astrid yanked her around in front of her. Tempest’s fists tightened and then released, but otherwise she gave no outward sign of her displeasure. She found herself staring up at the Brenton man with whom Astrid had been conversing.

“Tempest, this is Delvin Mallory. Go with him. I have business to attend to, and you will be in the way. Don’t give him any problems.”

“Yes, Astrid.”

The Brenton smiled down at her. “Well now, aren’t you a cute one?”

“Occasionally,” Tempest said dryly.

Delvin’s smile split into a wide grin and he looked up at Astrid. “Where did you find this little gem?”

Astrid’s hand came to the top of girl’s shoulder and with her thumb and forefinger she applied squeezing pressure to the muscle above her collar bone. Delvin found his smile tightening as the child’s face contorted slightly and she struggled not to wince.

“Make sure you point out Honorhall Orphanage on the way, Delvin,” Astrid said sweetly.

Delvin replaced Astrid’s hand with his own and moved Tempest toward him.

“You never could learn how to have a soft touch, could you Astrid?” he said lowly.

Astrid laughed. Delvin shook his head and absentmindedly began to rub the sting out of the child’s shoulder as they began to move along the walkway away from Astrid. They walked along in silence until he felt Tempest tug on his pant leg and stop moving.

Delving glanced down, and then followed her gaze across the canal to the marketplace. His brow furrowed for a moment and then he looked down at Tempest again. Her hand was still clasped on his pant leg, but her eyes were following a figure in the market circle.

“What is he doing?” she asked.

Delving grinned at the slightly indignant undertone of her voice and squatted down beside her.

“What’s who doing, Pet?”

Tempest shot him a sideways look. “That man in the market. He’s putting his hands in people’s pockets.”

Delvin’s eyebrows shot up and he looked to the market square and then back to Tempest, who was now standing with her arms crossed.

“You noticed that from all the way over here?” Delvin asked.

“Yes,” Tempest answered. “Is he trying to be sneaky? He’s not very good.”

Delvin Mallory had nothing if not an excellent poker face, but it damn near deserted him in the middle of Riften’s sidewalk. He took the briefest moment to compose himself, before answering the child.

“Well no one seems to have noticed him but you, Pet. Do you think you could do better?”

Tempest looked over at Delvin wide-eyed, and shrugged. “I don’t know. Do you want me to try?”

“Now, that’s what I like to hear. Go see how much you can take out of his pockets without him or anyone else noticing.”

Tempest looked over at Delvin again and swallowed, eyes worried. “If I get caught . . . Astrid will . . .”

“It’s alright. I’ll take the heat. But . . . don't get caught.”

Tempest nodded and handed him her satchel. She took a step or two before she turned back and glared at Delvin. He put a hand over his heart. “Don’t worry, I won’t even open it.”

He leaned against a building in the shadow of an eave and watched through narrowed eyes as the child made her way casually into the market and then disappeared into the crowd.

Tempest rolled her shoulders a bit to loosen them up and then watched the pickpocket carefully. There were a lot of people around, and as easy as she’d though it would be, she wasn’t sure quite how to start without anyone noticing her. After a few moments she formed her plan. She launched herself at the pickpocket and ran headlong into him with a gasp, grasping his coat when she stumbled.

Babette and Gabriella had spent plenty of time over the last several months coaching Tempest until she could conjure expressions to her face on command. So, when the red-haired pickpocket turned to her in annoyance, Tempest plastered a look of wide-eyed innocence across her countenance and breathed out, “Oh! I’m so sorry sir! Please forgive me!” She clutched at his coat and made a show of looking around in all directions. “Those dumb boys! They were chasing me! They said they were going to put skeever guts in my hair!”

She trembled a tiny bit, as though she were truly terrified and clung a bit more tightly to his coat, carefully sliding her hand from his coat pocket to her apron in the process. When she dared glance up into his face, her wide blue eyes collided with a set of startling green ones that softened as they took her in. He was much younger than Delvin, and handsome. He smiled down at her and she ducked her head, suddenly bashful. Chuckling, he leaned down and scooped her into his arms, so that she could see above the crowd. Tempest’s heart started to beat frantically, _Not good! Not good!_ but she smiled at him anyway.

“I don’t see any dumb boys,” he said. “Do you?”

“I think they’re all dumb, but . . .” Tempest could almost hear Babette whisper in her head. _Distract him._ She smiled at him and cocked her head to the side. “I like your voice. It’s . . . different.”

He grinned and tweeked her nose. “Well, aren’t you a little charmer?”

She shrugged. “Sometimes,” she answered.

At that he threw back his head and laughed.

“What’s your name? Where are your parents?”

Tempest shrugged again. “Around, I guess. And, I’m not supposed to tell my name to strangers.”

“Ah,” he agreed, “a wise move, that. But what am I to call you while we find your family? Little girl?”

She wrinkled her nose. “No . . . I’m not that little.”

He grinned. “Well I must call you something, lass.”

Her eyes danced. “I like that. You can call me Lass.” Suddenly the grin faded from her face and she clutched his shoulder.

“What is it, Lass?” he rumbled. “Have you spotted your bullies? Shall I scare some sense into them?”

She shook her head. “No, but it looks like a lot of the guards are headed this way.”

His grip tightened momentarily and he ducked around a building and put her down. She managed to empty the rest of his pockets as he did so. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

He laughed nervously. “Nothing, Lass. I just remembered I have somewhere to be.”

“Me too,” she grinned, and darted off into the crowd.

A few moments later Brynolf ducked his head around the corner. Finding no guards in pursuit, he smiled to himself and slipped his hands into his pockets . . . _his empty, empty pockets._ Panicked he patted himself down and then scanned the marketplace looking for anywhere he may have dropped his afternoon’s worth of work. What he saw instead was his little Lass leaning against the well in the market watching him.

 _No . . ._ he shook his head and smiled to himself dismissing the thought. _No . . . unless…_ Suddenly a septim rolled its way across the market to land by his feet. He bent to pick it up. When he looked up again Tempest smirked at him like the cat who ate the cream. He narrowed his eyes and started forward. She bolted into the crowd. Furious, he charged after her, catching a glimpse of blonde hair as she rounded a corner. He darted into an alley and ducked behind a building before he came charging around a corner. He skidded to a stop just in time to see the little hellion leap into the arms of a grinning Delvin Mallory.

“Well, Pet, what’dya get from our young Brynolf?” Delvin asked.

She giggled. “I got all of it, but he caught me.”

Brynolf stalked toward Delvin. “You put her up to this?”

Delvin and his “Pet” turned to look at him. “I didn’t Bryn. Little thing called you out from clear across the market. Said you weren’t very good at sneakin’, I believe.”

“Del-vin!” Tempest shrieked.

Delvin regarded her seriously. “What? You said it didn’t you?”

“YOU told me to take his things!”

“I also told you not to get caught.”

Brynolf smirked and walked in closer. “She got caught on purpose,” he said to Delvin. “You know, Lass, it’s not a very good idea to play with your marks. It can be very, very dangerous.”

Tempest nodded solemnly. “Brynolf?”

“Aye Lass?”

“It’s not a good idea to pick up strange children in the market, either. They may be trying to rob you.”

Bynolf made a grab for her and she shrieked and giggled.

“I’m going to turn this one over my knee!” he growled.

Delvin laughed and set Tempest down. “Ah, come off it Bryn! I’ve got some business, but take this one back to the Flaggon. Maybe you can convince her to give you all your coin back.”

* * *

 

Tempest’s nose wrinkled in disgust as they made their way through the rat way. She stepped gingerly, avoiding puddles, and stepped into the shadows, whenever there was trouble to be dealt with. That is, until a couple of skeevers came running towards them. As soon as the rats appeared Tempest squealed and climbed Brynolf like a tree. She wrapped her legs around his waist, buried her face in his neck and clung to him, as he slashed one with his dagger and booted the other one across the room where it hit the wall with a gurgling squeak and went still.

“It’s alright, Lass” he said, bumping the top of her head with his cheek. “I won’t let the skeevers get you.”

“How much further?” she whispered into his collar.

Brynolf sheathed his dagger. “Not much,” he chuckled. “Should I carry you the rest of the way like a royal princess?”

Tempest cut her eyes over to him. “If you want your stuff back.”

He grinned and ruffled her hair. “You’re smart as whip, Lass.”

“My name is Tempest.”

His eyes twinkled and he shook his head. “Oooohh no. You had your chance for proper introductions back at the market. Now you’re just my Lass, and that’s that.”

She yawned and smiled before patting his cheek and putting her head down on his shoulder. “Fine. I’m your lass, but that means you’re my . . . _yawn_ . . . Bryn.”

“Alright, Lass. It’s a deal.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
